


Gourmet

by orphan_account



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Gender Neutral, Light Bondage, Other, finger lickin' good, im so sorry, thats it thats the fic, this is so funny to me bye, tsukiyama x reader where he has sex w you and then eats you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-29
Updated: 2015-09-29
Packaged: 2018-04-24 00:56:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4899340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On your first date, he's a proper gentleman. He opens the car door for you, pulls out your chair, looks at you like you’re the only thing that matters and covers the check to boot.</p><p>On your second date, he eats you alive.</p><p>(Tsukiyama x Reader, in which you are the Gourmet's next meal and he goes to extra lengths to prepare you.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gourmet

**Author's Note:**

> a joke between pals that there should be tsukiyama x reader where he eats the reader that i took way too far

On your first date, he's a proper gentleman. He opens the car door for you, pulls out your chair, looks at you like you’re the only thing that matters and covers the check to boot.

On your second date, he eats you alive.

“I don't understand," You say, hands behind your head and the burn of rope just beginning to throb against your wrists.

"It's simple, really." He replies absentmindedly, walking around the bed to admire his handiwork. You're sprawled on his bed with your hands tied above your head to the headboard. Satisfied, he tugs off his shirt and slides onto the bed beside you, sitting up on his knees. You shiver when he traces a pianist's finger in a lazy circle around your stomach, and he watches your abdomen twitch with a gluttonous smile you've never seen him wear. "I want to have sex with you, and then I want to eat you."

"The first I understand," You say, breath hitching as his hands pause by your hipbones before tugging at the waistband of your pants. Anxiously, you give your leg a kick—they're still free and you hope to shift away, but he grabs onto your thighs with a grasp that reveals hidden, almost inhuman strength. "It's the second i'm stuck on."

"This position suits you." he remarks, ignoring your query with ease. You shiver again at how his eyes move over you. His gaze feels heavy and hungry, and before you have time to blink he's settling himself between your legs and skillfully tugging at the clasp of your pants with his teeth. You try unsuccessfully to muffle a noise of surprise, and his eyes meet yours, lidded and smug.

“That's—that's what you meant by eat, right? Like...giving head?" You gasp. 

"Sure," Tsukiyama laughs, and you barely have time to admire the way his grin cuts a line across his face before he puts his mouth on you. Instantly and unconsciously you buck into his mouth, and he pulls back with a giggle; you hear him comment something about how eager you are, only you've already forgotten it when he returns to his administrations, mouth hot and wet and moving just the way you crave it.

"Please," You realize you're begging, voice breathy as you squirm. You'd been hesitant at first when he'd suggested tying your hands but it makes sense now as the pleasure is heightened by how uselessly you pull at the restraints, body heating with a rush from the feelings of vulnerability it gives you. He’s skilled, you think to yourself; he has you pleading within minutes. Soon your hips rise again, and you throw your head back, close and a moan on your lips—

and then he's pulling back with another breathy, damnable laugh, watching as you whine, twisting and jerking your hips uselessly on the edge of orgasm.

"You're beautiful," He tells you, licking his lips. You’re still wondering how to respond, mind spinning with pleasure denied when he sits up, sliding off his own pants with ease.  
He’s every bit as big as you’d speculated to your friends, the gossip you’d shared with an innocent giggle unaware of the circumstances under which he’d finally take you to bed. He moves up to you and you wet your lips once before parting them, eager.

He slides into your mouth all at once, pulling back and giving you only a moment to adjust before he moves forward again and you’re gagging. He seems to find the sound pleasing, and laughs again, his mirth in your ears and the taste of him on your tongue. Obligingly he pauses mid-stroke, lets you collect yourself as best you can with rigid heat in your mouth and his come in your throat and then he’s thrusting once more, running a hand over your hair and crooning commands. He tells you to suck so you do, tells you to purse your lips here and flick your tongue there and you do, encouraged by the twitch of his cock in your mouth and the breathy beginnings of pleasured gasps he gives you. A particularly low sound of pleasure, and he’s pulling out; he’s flushed yet still collected, and you give him a pout, missing the taste. He catches your eye and grins, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips that’s all-too-chaste for where yours have been.

“You’re beautiful,” he tells you again, breaking away from your mouth to kiss down your neck. You gasp when his teeth graze your collarbone, heat flaring in your stomach as he giggles into your skin. He lingers for a moment as though wavering then continues with an exhale, trailing kisses down your stomach before sitting up on his knees.

Your breath catches when he slides two fingers in you, a gasp involuntary at the unexpected move but he has you moaning before you can dwell on it. A pleasured exhale ghosts your lips and he hums along with delight, giving your stomach a final kiss before replacing his fingers with his cock.

“Relax,” he tells you, and you can barely hear him over the moan you return, a noise that swells and grows with each stroke. He’s hot inside you, deep and swelling as your legs wrap themselves around his waist. Relax, he told you, and you do until the pressure begins to swell inside you. He moans into your shoulder when you clench involuntarily around him, and his whisper is a gift, a small _fuck, that’s good, you’re so good, my darling, my love, fantassimo_ —

and then you’re climaxing, heat in your belly and stars behind your eyes and a groan on your lips that twists into a scream when he bites into your shoulder and tears off a chunk of flesh.

“Ah, I’m sorry,” he says, truly apologetic even as you shriek. Time’s still as a dream; moving no more, a clock stopped, and slowly the situation, as unreal and horrifying as it is, begins to dawn on you. When you chance a glance at the wound there’s open flesh, pink and puckered and weeping around the edges of a gaping crater that reveals muscle torn by pearl teeth and a flash of blinding white bone.

“Why—” you manage hysterically, cries twisting into the only word you can think to produce. He grins at you, teeth pink with the mix of your blood and his saliva, and holds your gaze as he runs his tongue across his teeth. He pulls out of you still-hard, and is kind enough to soften his smile before dropping his gaze and hand to himself. 

Still pleading, you watch him, your cries twisting into sobbed interrogations incoherent even to your own ears as he strokes himself, breath hitching. As the post-coital bliss fades what had been a hazy, dull ache in your shoulder begins to pulse with pain that builds by the second. You cry, babbled sobs softening into shoulder-shaking tears that tug at the muscle you can see severed above your collarbone and do nothing to comfort you.

“Don’t stop,” you hear him say, and realize he means your tears. He’s close, quickening his hand with a flush patterned across his stomach, and you’re given no chance for the realization that he’s getting off to your pain to sink in before he lifts his spare hand and punches you through the stomach.

The pain is abrupt this time, not gradual as the bite had been, and you scream again, back arching involuntarily in a convulsion that’s followed by the sour build of bile and blood in the back of your throat. With a sickening noise you vomit, blood spraying your front and your lover, and Tsukiyama bucks into his hand with an expression ablaze. He’s silent when he comes, collected as ever and he makes sure to pull you toward him with his spare hand and finish himself into your stomach. The world spins when you glance down and see the slick of his come splattered into your punctured insides, staining pink and sliding into you. Dizzily you realize he’s literally come inside you, and splutter weakly, wanting to vomit but finding nothing left to lose.

“W-W...Whh..y….” you manage with a rasp, and Tsukiyama catches your eyes again as he licks your blood from his fingers and slurps gristle with a contented hum.

“You’re beautiful,” he repeats once more, and something bright blue snakes around his arm like liquid before solidifying into a sword worn well protruding from his shoulder. A ghoul, you think, stunned and defeated as you’re impaled on his kagune, lifted into the air above him. With a wink he sticks out his tongue, and the last thing you see is your blood dripping into his mouth before all goes dark.


End file.
